Sigh'lence

Inspiration need not always be from experience. Inspiration comes also from empathy, agitation or for that matter fantasy. Now fantasy is to be understood in terms of "what could have been if...". The inspiration for this poem comes from empathy as well as the "what could have been if..." factor. Justification pertains only to those who need one.

Why am i scared of what would be
if i told you what i feel...
perhaps it is the silence, that, in me
raises waves of emotions i 'need' not.
perhaps when i do decide to speak
to you, about my intentions, there'll be none!
none of these needless thoughts shall remain then.
Silence is,for sure, evil...
when, with the heart you deal.
It kindles thoughts that exist not in speech
It feeds the idle mind with thoughts ugly
(ugly to the ignorant, but not for You and Me)
But again...
perhaps the thoughts aren't as needless at all
perhaps we were in love to fall, and,
but for the silence we would have...
Perhaps it were the silence that saved us
the trouble of ruining all that We have...
And what all have We!
A tale of private emotions,
a future unknown yet secure,
a lifetime of secret smiles
when into each other's thoughts we peep
a dream that awaits intoxicated senses...

perhaps this is what the silence meant to do to us...
perhaps silence isn't that evil at all...

He who...

He who has not,an opinion of his own
but laughs when they laugh and mourns when they mourn-
sees not the fact that, gone, when they are
he from his own self, shall have moved oh!so far

He who is man not enough to say NO
but amends his principles to go with the flow-
knows not the truth that, when things turn around
An abyss of vices, in him, shall be found.

He who does not, by his friends, stand
but befriends a mirage and seeks its hand
loses not just his dream, but also the trust
of his friends. Oh! suffer-he must!

He who trades secrets to gain acceptance
and smiles at them all wearing the mask of pretence
shall, someday, find himself alone in his room...
and that day shall be-the day of his doom.

He who cares not about anything at all
but treats them all the same-issues big or small
shall have not much to cherish,when his days are to end
will have not a soul to be called 'his friend'.

Nomadic love

abrupt liasons
unspoken love
tacit reverence
unknown joys
feelings unexplored
memories incomplete
bitter sweet endings
eternal conflicts
alien realms
unreal sights
ecstatic emotions
intricate bonds
hasty encounters
sublime expressions
flowing time
reckless heart
aren't these but the essence of a vagabond??
can a nomad afford the luxury called love...??

too soon to love, too late to ignore
too sweet an emotion to shut the doors
of my eyes. Im totally in sync,
with the rhythm of life-I'll be gone in a blink.

it isn't cowardice, but plain revival
of the spirit of restlessness (and of denial)
of wanting something you know u can't attain
of experiencing the pleasures of being in pain.

Im too full of life to let my heart
wander across. each day i start
as if it were the last day of my life
Love cannot happen in a nomad's life

love is a luxury that requires time,
riches and sacrifice;i consider it crime
for me to surrender to cupid's plot.
Love is a luxury that i pursue not.

Love is that realm i shall enter not
Love is that luxury i desire not.